


Nyxie Hollow: Nightshade's Story

by heroesinahalfshell91



Category: Tinker Bell (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Death, Families of Choice, Love, Multi, Rape, Rape Aftermath, Rape Recovery, Trials
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-12
Updated: 2017-04-24
Packaged: 2018-10-03 04:43:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 8
Words: 14,289
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10236155
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heroesinahalfshell91/pseuds/heroesinahalfshell91
Summary: Fairies are born from a baby's first laugh. Nyxies, the Fey of Nature's darker side, are born from a baby's first cries. Nightshade, a Poison Gifted Nyxie, has made a terrible mistake; one that throws not only her world but that of the Fairies into chaos.





	1. Chapter 1

Everyone knows that a fairy is born from a child's first laugh- their first true laugh, full of warmth and joy. What few understand, however, is we can also be born from their first cries, the timorous wailing of fear or pain.

We do understand. Some people call us goblins, others trolls, though none can get a good account of how we look. We like to call ourselves Nyxies, after the old Human word for the Goddess of Night, because that's when we get our best work done; in the dark.

Where fairies are warm bundles of light, laughter, trust, and yes, with that specially added dash of Pixie Dust, we are darkness, our wings laced with moonlight, we are tears, and hate, and we need nothing to help us fly. We two races look similar, I suppose. We are both small, nimble little acrobats and fliers. Our skin however comes in a multitude of sky-like colors, from the white of the moon to the black of midnight and all the hues between where theirs comes in warmer shades of pinks and tans. We have large eyes because of our nocturnal habits where theirs seem rather small with wide spacing. Ah yes, our wings. Our wings are perhaps the most Fairy thing about us, frail glass-like appendages, though ours glow with bio-luminescence.

We live in a Hollow of sorts too, though ours is a log rather than a large tree with it's lights and music.

We do have music, though you probably wouldn't consider it so; deep mournful lines sung best by someone who has experienced loss, that stir our hearts and minds. Don't think this means we are without our civilities, for we are a proud and noble people and every full moon when the work is done we celebrate.

You see, the thing is we work with the Fairies and they just don't know it. They hate us. It's a hard truth, but a truth none-the-less. They would never admit it, though, the warm cuddly little things they are. But as with many things in Nature there is a contrary side, and that is our role. Just as they are born from laughter and we from tears, we fill the other role of Nature the Fairies neglect.

I think I should explain who I am now. My name is Nightshade, and I'm a Poison Gifted Nyxie. No, we do not call them 'Talents'; a talent is something that must be worked at to prefect; we are Gifted.

You may be wondering what I mean by Poison Gifted. If I were a Fairy I would be a Garden Talent, as unappealing an idea as that is. Let me explain why, though. You see, I work with flowers too. Foxglove, oleander, my namesake nightshade, all very lovely to look at; but you wouldn't want to have any in your tea, and that is my doing. When the Fairies go to sleep, we get to work. It is my job as a Poison Gifted to imbue all these lovely little flowers, with their soft, delicate petals, with their lethal qualities.

I love my job. I can't help but imagine how the Fairies would react to the discovery of my labors, slowly coaxing toxins into stem, leaf, and petal. I like to think they would be horrified, or concerned at the least that their precious little blossoms were turned deadly over night. I guess I'll never know though, Fairies living forever in daylight, myself working in darkness. Oh well, at least I can imagine it, and it's beautiful...


	2. Chapter 2

I remember the child from whose tears I was born. It was a Wednesday, just after three in the morning. The baby's name was Samantha and she had been born to a single teenage mother. Not all such mothers would have done what she did, but I'm not here to judge. After all I wouldn't exist if she hadn't. Dear, sweet Samantha had colic.

You see that's the thing; babies cry. They cry all the time, but they smile and laugh too. It's because they're creatures of primal needs, I think. If they are fed and warm and their diapers changed they are content. It isn't until later that they learn what joy or sorrow really is. Most often, as little Samantha came to see that night, tears come before laughter.

The pair had been up for hours, the child wailed pitifully, weeping tears of discomfort, and not true sadness. Her mother was frustrated; she had a big test in the morning and her parents, intent on teaching their wayward daughter a lesson, refused to help her with little Samantha in any way, unless absolutely necessary.

"Just shut up!" the weary and inexperienced mother had shouted, giving her daughter's thigh a pinch. She regretted the act almost immediately afterwards, cradled her, rocked her, and cried, begging the infant's forgiveness. None of this was any of my concern however, because after the first tenuous shrieks and tears I was fresh, and new, and ready to go to work.

But that was then, and this is now.

The sun had just set, leaving a greenish-blue light in the western sky while eastward the heavens opened up to a plethora of stars. The pale light these celestial bodies offered on this moonless eve washed over the sleeping landscape, filling it with just enough glow to work by. In my opinion, it's the best part of day. The Hollow, a half-rotted log that rested along the north riverbank, had begun to stir with life as the other Nyxies began to wake.

One of the few who enjoyed the twilight hours, I had been up well before them. The low wispy sound of wings sliding through the air was cut periodically by the low murmurs of dozens of voices as my fellows chattered briefly among themselves. After a few brief moments the mouth of the log was witness to our nightly exodus, Nyxies flitting off to their various tasks, thankless though our jobs may be.

Mucor and Conidia, a brother and sister duo of Fungi Gifted were among the first to take wing. Neighbors of mine, pranksters and hooligans both, they were eager to spread their spores and watch as they grew on fallen fruit and leaf litter.

One of their numerous duties was to help mushrooms take root, blooming in many unique and twisted shapes; each a sculpture made with loving care by the twin's hands. Despite their devil-may-care attitude towards life, they were very well respected as the mushrooms and other fungi they grew made up a large part of our diets.

I ruefully admit that I lingered. Slide, a tall Decomposition Gifted Nyxie had been on my mind a lot as of late. He had an ashen gray complexion, long, gleaming black hair, and holly red eyes. I had worked with him, well, near him, last spring when a young deer had nibbled one too many of my hemlock sprigs and died. It fascinated me to watch him work, not just the deterioration of something that was alive not long ago, but the way in which he went about it.

Slide spoke to the deceased creature, even after it had become putrid; beetles absconded with bits of it here and there, while worms inhabited it eye sockets; flies and their larval offspring making the most use of the fawn.

When I finally dared ask why he was doing it, what he said struck me full in the chest in a way that stayed.

Gently, Slide informed me that is was his firmly-held belief that the animal's essence lingered until Nature reclaimed it's body in full. As a baby animal he reasoned that it was likely afraid and confused,so therefore he consoled it, as he felt it was his responsibility to do.

It was sweet and charming, and something that had warmed me through entirely. As a result I had become infatuated with him, though I only dared admire him from afar.

I was plain as far as looks went; a thing which didn't do much to bolster my courage. My skin is the dull blue of a moon-laced thunderhead, and my hair, cropped short save for a lock I kept long and braided behind my right ear, is only just darker than that. My eyes, which I believe to be my most attractive feature, are black and gleaming, perfect for capturing stray beams of light.

When Slide finally came into view, all resplendent and strong, my heart gave a thrill, only to sink quickly afterwards. Of course he would be with her. Vira was a Pestilence Gifted who spread illness and disease with a wave of her elegantly maintained hand. Her skin was moonlight white and hair a flowing, luminous green. I could have almost hated her for it. She was beautiful, and sang with a perfection I could never attain. Even as I watched from my knot in the wood Vira was hanging off Slide like her life depended on in. Upon further reflection as I watched them flying away together, I decided then and there that I did indeed hate her.

Rot, an unceremoniously-named Compost Gifted came up to me then. Somehow always cued in to my hiding places he looped an arm about my shoulders. He was much taller than I was, dwarfing me and bending my wings slightly, but not in a way that was uncomfortable. His skin the bold color of pine wood, and eyes the shade of amber he smiled down at me.

"Shouldn't you be at work?" he rumbled, his voice like gravel as it reverberated through our point of contact. He was as close to a father figure as someone who had never been born could have, though I believe to him I was something more; something for which I felt guilt that I could not reciprocate his feelings.

Sighing, I was tempted to rake him with my claws, and made playful show of displaying them. Rot's laugh was hearty, a meaty, calloused hand roughing through my hair. Thinking better of my temper, I took flight grumbling instead of engaging him.


	3. Chapter 3

That was the night everything changed. I had no way of realizing it at the time, stewing over my spurned secret love as I flew off to tend my flowers and trees, what trials and horrors awaited me.

Blissfully ignorant, a patch of lily-of-the-valley was my first stop. Among the pips and blossoming bits there pink flowers had budded, a rarity for this subspecies so l liked to check it often. Whoever the Garden Fairy was that tended it in the day must have felt similarly as it had been braced with a twig, allowing it more sun in the mornings when the light wasn't so harsh, while still effectively shading it when the sun was directly overhead.

"Hello lovely!" I cooed, gliding down towards it on silently glowing wings, pausing only a moment to savor its fragrance. Looking the plant over from bells to soil-clung roots I made made certain there was nothing amiss before I began. Sinking to my knees, my fingers burying themselves into the soft peat stirred up the warm rich aroma of earth. Then, eyes lightly closed, I focused on the appropriate toxin-feeling as the poison formed somewhere within my chest prior to flowing down my arms and out of my fingertips like a cool, refreshing wave.

I smiled when, after some coaxing, the flowers became receptive, drinking it in. Nausea, vomiting, severe abdominal pain, confusion, blurred vision, and blister-like hives; this was a good, refreshing bane to have started my evening with, even if the plants were non-lethal.

After I'd finished I hovered, self-indulgently kissing each bell-like bloom before darting away to tend to some jasmine and daffodils; again, neither fatal. The daffodils were troublesome and I had to argue my point with them, their yellow heads bobbing and swaying in a loose breeze, obstinate and vain as ever. At last they relented and my work there was quickly done. Was it wrong, I wondered, to have favorites among my charges? Would it have been like a mother having favorites of her children?

Either way, wrong or right, I did and do have favorites, as I'm sure most mothers do. Now it may sound poor of me, but like I have stated before, Nyxies are very different from our Fairy counterparts, and I favored these plants for their lethality. It had taken a great deal of work and doing, but at last I'd gotten them to grow together; red sage taking root under my yew tree. Tucking in my wings as I approached, falling into a shallow dive I went straight for the heart of the thick bush, rolling and laughing as it's tiny buds tickled against my skin. Breathing in its sweet scent I couldn't help but feel triumphant as, after all my hard work, the first green berries had begun to grow.

Picking one, I cradled the smooth delicate orb in both hands. This toxin attacked the central nervous system; erratic heartbeat, shallow breathing, kidney failure; all were hallmarks of red sage poisoning. Death was slow and painful, and sometimes when a weak heart was involved, cardiac arrest would occur. Anaphylaxis was also prominent, and of course no one can live without their kidneys so there were several promising attributes worth appreciating in the plant.

Pocketing the fruit for later, knowing a single bite could kill any of my friends, I planned on savoring the taste later.

I fed my shrub her needed poison before moving to check the yew. I love my yew; the ghost, the silent killer. In most cases death can occur within a few short hours, and without any outward signs of poisoning. When signs do occur, seizures and anaphylaxis typically, it's already too late. My face fell when I noticed Rot tending to a large gash in it's side.

"What are you doing?" I asked sharply, a low buzz filling the air as I was beating my wings furiously behind me.

"Working." he grunted as a hand slipped into the deep divide, decaying my tree's flesh as he ran his fingers along it. I flew nearer, inspecting the weeping, pungent-odored gash, my gaze critical and appraising.

"Why are you killing my tree?" I yelled, putting myself between them, and pulling at his arms and trying in any way I could to make him stop.

"I'm not," he said in his typical gruff, hardly-ever-more-than-two-syllables-at-a-time manner.

"Then what is?" I bellowed, completely irate after all my long, hard work. Rot shrugged, he usually worked with leaf litter and other decaying plant matter, things that were already dead.

"Bacterial wetwood." he responded after a while, finally able to name the power that flowed from him.

Rage flared through me. Vira had diseased my favorite plant; I was sure of it. I was well prepared to fly off and give her a good taste of what a yew could do to someone when Rot grabbed me, painfully, by a wing.

"Don't do it," he advised, still holding on.

We regarded one another for a long moment; the expression on his wide face easy and affirming before he let go. There was nothing that could be done about it; besides, he was just doing his job, and I had one of my own. Drifting back towards the earth I flooded toxins throughout the tree, giving it more bite than usual, hoping that somehow it would help it stave off the wetwood, before darting away to sulk.

I sat under a wilted sapling to think. Bacterial wetwood was difficult to cure, especially to the extent it had grown.

I had always had an interest in experimentation; hybrid plants and the like, with some success to my name.

Nyxies didn't do that sort of thing, but even if I couldn't save my tree maybe I could grow another, cross it with something hardier or deadlier. The idea appealed, and as the night wore on, I found the red sage berry to be deliciously bitter.

I was just wiping the last of its juices from my chin when my sensitive nocturnal eyes caught the subtle change in the already pale light. I turned and saw, nearly too late, the owl bearing down on me. Leaping away I instinctively channeled a poison into my hands and tainting my nails, long sharp and black as many of us kept them. The owl reached for me with his talons, just as deadly. I banked right, raking my hand through his thick feathers and warming down, nails biting into it's skin.

I heard a voice call out moments later, but the owl had turned, readying for another attack, a shill, piercing cry emitting from it's devilishly curved beak.

I noticed then the cut stinging my ribs and bloodying my mossy blouse. I wrapped one hand about it tightly as the fiery burn of my pain spread.

Where Fairies had their Sparrow Men to guard and protect them, we fought for our own lives. I was rash and daring, determined to meet this foe and come out of it alive.

I charged straight at him, coming close, almost too close, but cutting the bird under it's left eye. The owl screamed and fell to the earth where it floundered and continued to wail. My heart was pounding as I landed, nerves on edge. I was holding my side and trying to work out exactly what and how much poison I had used in my haste, as I did not want the animal to suffer for merely doing what nature intended.

It was then that I felt something cool on my shoulder. I reacted faster than I could think, failing to realize in time the familiar weight and feel of a hand.

He looked at me, the Fairy King, eyes sad and confused, skin pale as I raked my claws deeply across his chest. My heart dropped into the pit of my stomach as he fell to the soil. I had only time to to hear the first desperate attempts at speech cut off by the hissing gag of a far too hurriedly taken breath.

I took off. I was terrified and already guilt-ridden, but what more could I have done? He was going to die. Yes, the poison had been ebbing away as I stopped focusing on it, but was still there, still potent, and he was going to die because of it.

I flew as fast as my wings could carry me, my mind devoid of thought, a stark animalistic fear flooding through me as my veins became laced with adrenaline, fear, and above all, a need to survive. It was then in my bleary headlong pelt that I collided with Airitie, a Drought Gifted Nyxie, and my greatest friend in the whole world.

"What's wrong?" Airitie asked, gripping me by the shoulders, tone assured. "You're flying like a bat out of daylight!"

Airitie had an oak brown complexion, and dark red, shoulder length hair, but what was special about Airitie was the fact of hermaphroditism, another of Nature's miracles often shunned or overlooked by so many. After I had calmed enough to look Airitie in the face I recognized that she identified as female this evening. It was in the way she wore her hair, something she did often as an outward indication of her inner self, and also to avoid certain annoyances; rather than classifying herself as third-gendered, she was fluid.

Her gentle and unassuming face was lined with worry, clearly I looked a mess. "What happened?" she asked, eyeing me keenly, pulling away at my clothing to examine the gash I had all but forgotten about. I had no idea where to begin; my mind was whirling and heart beating wildly against my chest. Everything seemed to be happening so very fast that it was difficult to remember to flap my wings. She shook me gently.

"I did something terrible," I heard myself croak in a voice that wavered and failed.

"Ok," she started, always level headed. "How do we fix it?" Was her question, though her attention lay with my wound at the moment. It wasn't deep, I could tell; it ran across my abdomen just above my navel, but bled heavily.

"I need to see Dusk." I said naming our leader after a moment of trepidation.

Airitie nodded, looking me in the eye with a steadying compassion. "Alright," she said, linking her arm through mine, "Let's go see Dusk."


	4. Chapter 4

Dusk, king of the Nyxies sat as ever he did on his wood knot throne at the heart of the Hollow. His hair was long and black, like Slide's, but oily, his skin was the hue of a storm broke sea, grey-green and deep. He had his favorites gathered about him scantily clothed, or not clothed at all, a male Nyxie whose name I didn't know was currently in his lap giggling and slapping away Dusk's explorative caresses. It was known that becoming one of the king's favorites, or even catching his eye for an evening meant a respite from your nightly toils, though I'm sure they worked just as hard if not harder behind those closed chamber doors.

It was Airitie who approached the throne, clearing her throat when I failed to speak. "What is it?" Dusk snapped with annoyance, only played us half of his attention. It was then in the scanning glare of his eyes that I timidly recalled his Gift as even our King had one. When he was not mediating over the matters of a ruler or in the throws shut away in his bedroom he was kissing the venom into the lips of adders and other such creatures. Airitie who was much stronger than I, helped to hold me aloft before our leader whom I had only seen formally the twilight of my arrival.

"Nightshade has something to bring before your majesty!" she called out bowing respectfully.

Dusk's sharp green gaze flickered to me. "I, I've killed an owl." I began earning a scoff and a dismissive wave.

Finished with me the man went back to his quiet murmurations and teasing ways with his group of lovers, hands on the male seat, lips for tasting a female he'd called near. My mind wandered to wicked places and I found myself briefly curious with how he would like Airitie, though I damned myself for it immediately afterwards. She, however must have been thinkinging the same thing as she shifted her weight uncomfortably. Sex was a part of Nature, a part we embodied more readily than the Fairies, and as such it was part of our culture, sexuality a lax word, love was love and gender blind to us, but only Dusk was so lewd about it.

I shook my head clear of the thoughts before continuing. "There, there was a Fairy." I managed earning a scornful sigh as Dusk shoved his lovers away, earning pitiful whines from them as they pouted. Rising from his seat and walked down the dais steps he stopped to tower in front of me, my height scarcely able to reach his shoulders.

"And?" he asked, voice cold and clear eyes sharp and threatening.

"If he's not dead by now he's dying." I explained trembling, my own gaze falling until all I was able to observe were my own two feet. Dusk loomed over me for several minutes, standing uncomfortably close, before his hand came to rest on my cheek, thumb rubbing the space beneath my eye.

"That's a good thing, isn't it?" he questioned in a leading way, applying pressure, causing pain, and the vision in my left eye to darken. I was too afraid to move even as the darkness was cut my a myriad of shattered color, and I feared damage done to the orb. If I envied the Fairies one thing, it was their gentle leaders which is what made my doing so hard.

"It will remind them their place when they find the body come morning, won't it?" he went on tone cloying as his free hand found the gash. My chin quivered and tears began to rain down my face as I tried to figure out how to tell him even as he continued to play his painful games.

"The Fairy," I began with a sob. "It was Lord Milori." The hand on my face pulled away as he looked accusingly at me. I knew what this could mean for my people, their people, I knew this could mean war, and the burden of this knowledge clung to me like a savage weight upon my soul. I opened my mouth to ask the question that had sprung to mind, what was Lord Milori doing out of his winter domain, when Dusk's hand came crashing across my face. I stumbled, and nearly fell, dark and light spots dancing before both my eyes now, and the taste of blood on my tongue.

"You will return with your friend," the king instructed hotly, a finger jabbed in my direction. "And if there is a job to be finished, by all that dwells in night you will finish it!" Airitie was already pulling me away before I could think of anything to say in my own defense, before I knew it, we were racing out of log and back the way we'd come.

The flight to the scene of the indecent was a quiet one, my friend pausing me only once to dab at the blood on my lip, nothing to be done about the rest for the time being. When we reached the little clearing the owl, snow white, could be clearly seen. It was writhing on the ground wings flopping and splaying pitifully as it tried to right itself.

Death was a part of Nature, but as it was, it was still difficult to watch. Rot, who must have come after me to see that I wouldn't make trouble with Vira was standing just a short distance away watching with a type of helpless fascination. My blood ran cold when I realized that Lord Milori was no where to be seen.

"Rot, did you move the Fairy?" I called in a frantic shrill. He shook his head soberly, the delicate necklace the bird had been adorned with broken and in hand. He spared me a horrified look that told me he knew who's owl this was, and what I must have done.

"He couldn't have gotten far." Airitie whispered with urgency. We all knew of Lord Milori, the tragic tale of his love lost and wing broken, though a Fairy tale, it was a song readily sung in our halls, low and mournful. Nodding I steeled my nerves and concentrated, willing my strongest poisons in their most lethal doses into my hands.

The owl screeched and screamed as I approached. "You tried to kill me!" I reminded it with a bitter anger. "Besides, this is a mercy."

I dug my nails in deeply, feeling the cool wave wash down my arms as I fed the poison into the bird. The convulsions and thrashing intensified momentarily before dying down, a red foam frothing at the owl's beak, blood dripping from his nostrils as it's tongue swelled, eyes bulging with an inability to breathe. Within seconds the struggling stopped, it's feet cycling through the air asphyxiation taking hold, then, the bird was finally dead. My friends comforted me as I cried, knowing as well as I did that our understand of death and it's role in Nature didn't make it any easier, or mean we were cruel and heartless in our acceptance of it.

"Did you see anyone?" I asked Rot after I had managed to calm myself.

"No one." he sighed with resignation knowing full well what I had done, and who I had attacked in my perceived self-defense. He gripped my shoulder tightly before flying into the air, leading the way back home where my king awaited an explanation. He was sitting on his throne as he was only moments ago, though now the hall was filled with onlookers, and his favorites were no long draped over him, but standing stoically behind the throne.

I waited for him to speak, to address me, but instead he waved for my case to be presented. "The, the owl is dead, I killed it with a lethal dose of yew poison." I said my voice trembling, he smiled at this.

"And Lord Milori?" he asked, tone light and airy. I wrung my hands together nervously, gaze failing to hold once more.

"He wasn't there anymore, he was gone." I whispered unable to find any further courage. Dusk stood and walked to me again, my eyelids fluttered as I expected another blow in reprimand but none came. The hall deathly quiet as he stared down at me.

"I'm sorry, I'm so, so sorry!" I cried out at last burying my face into my hands as tears sprung anew. I had damned my people, perhaps even, set into motion the beginnings of war, and these terrible facts made me sick to the core.

"Shh, I know you are!" Dusk whispered, suddenly the warm, caring leader I had moments ago wished for. He embraced me, stroking my hair, humming something sweetly.

"I'm sorry." I repeated disturbed in a way that I had no words for, because I shouldn't have been, I should have been flattered, reveled in this, but there was something wrong, something I knew innately his earlier cruelty conflicting in my mind with the Dusk who presented himself now.

"I know you are." the king said. "You're sorry, sorry, that you couldn't fulfill your duties as a good little Poison Gifted tonight." he went on, voice strangely beguiling.

I pulled away from his embrace to look at him in confusion. "It's alright." he said explaining things in a simplistic manner as though I'd just arrived. "You couldn't fulfill your duties because you were busy entertaining me in my chambers tonight, all night." he smiled, knotting my stomach sharply and sending a hushed gossiping whisper through the crowd.

"But I wasn't-" I tried, backing even further away, only to have my words cut off, and his grip tighten about my quaking form.

"You will though." Dusk promised, wrapping a strong arm about my waist and pulling me forward. "And these fine people can all testify to it." he commented, motioning to the room at large. My heart was hammering steadily, I was dizzy and felt nauseous, my legs giving out sporadically as he led me towards the great yawning doorway. I tried to protest, but he was my king, and he was so much stronger besides.

"Don't!" Rot shouted trying to rush forward as grim looking guards surrounding my friends, and I was being whisked away. Dusk looked back at him and smiled a wicked smile.

"What's the matter?" he mocked, "Are you afraid that the cake won't taste as sweet once all the frosting has been licked away?" he asked meaningfully. A scream of disgust and dread ripped itself from my throat at the thought of what was about to happen, counterpointed by Rot's baritonous howl of fury.

"Please," I begged Dusk my voice thin and frightened as I started to cry. I had never done the act, and although it would seem and honor to bed the king, especially for a first, virginal bedding, I felt sick at the thought of it, his grip on me becoming violent. "I don't want to do this." I said, finally voicing my inner most thoughts as his bed came into view. He nodded acknowledging that I wanted nothing to do with what he had planned.

"Think of it this way," he said. "There are worse ways I could punish you." I felt faint from the sharpness in his tone, but finally had managed to escape him as the doors swung shut. Wailing I beat my fists upon them, my king's cold laugher drawing nearer behind me. Even before hands began exploring my body, I could think of nothing, no punishment, worse than this.


	5. Chapter 5

I staggered out of the chambers sometime just before sunrise, Dusk calling after me with praise. Rot and Airitie who were waiting looked up at me with wide terrified eyes as I emerged. My footing was difficult to maintain, my limbs feeling far too weak to support my weight. Nothing seemed real in that moment, my senses muted, and my awareness of the world around me faltering as though at any second it, or I would dissipate into nothingness. I willed it to happen, my own nonexistence, yet my fevered prayers for such went unanswered.

Working forward, pain ranging throughout my flesh everything felt aflame, dark bruises surfacing randomly across my frame as I cradled a wrist I was fairly certain had been broken. My face tear stained and swollen from a bite received in the king's ecstasy, I felt ill. Vemons and poisons being two very different things the poison of his lips had started taking its toll on me. My knees buckled when I reached my friends, seeing me at last to the ground. Rot whose jaw was firmly set caught me, if only just, Airitie bundling me away in a blanket, covering my nakedness that I had yet to realize. The pair whispered mournfully to one a other, but I hadn't the clarity of mind to listen. Rot, who couldn't seem to look at me directly then carried me away from the throne room.

I was in shock, quiet and still the entire time we ascended. My body terribly sore and tender, I was grateful to be carried, flown up to my nook of a home. A wing had been bent in Dusk's excitement and there was a terrible fiery burn between my legs where the blood was drying and I knew I could have never made it alone. I was only vaguely aware of arriving when I was gingerly laid on the bed. Airitie who looked frettful, far from her typically composed and self-assured personality got me a glass of water which she helped me drink, Rot pacing angrily near the door. I wouldn't realize it until later, but his face bore bruises from a brawl with the guards, and they were just as fresh and deep as my own.

After this Airitie came to tend me, gently reaching out she tugged at the blanket.

"No!" I found myself screaming rolling away from her and curling in on myself, despite the discomfort the motion brought. I felt in one terror fuelled instant that a thousand hands had descended upon me with intent to do harm. I fought and railed against the feigned attackers, screaming until my lungs burned.

It was irrational, I thought, even as I was doing it, to be so afraid of having the blanket removed, or of nudity, or being touched. Yet inexplicably I was, in some profound way that I could not understand having this shroud about me the thinly protective veil it was meant more now than life.

"It hurts." I sobbed suddenly, I hadn't meant to show such weakness, I hadn't meant to disgraced myself anymore than had already happened or cause them any pain, but I did. Airitie, crying now with me fell to her knees beside the bed lamenting and apologizing profusely, while Rot watched briefly before stalking angrily out of the squat, one room house.

After a while I was aware of tearful singing, and someone smoothing my hair. Coming back to myself I found my head resting neatly in my friend's lap, as she sang lilting lullabies from long ago. Freeing a hand, I searched with it blindly like an antenna until I'd located my own bedding, with help pulling it tightly around me, in addition the quilt I was already bound in.

I couldn't have been sure, but I felt hours had passed since returning home, light polluting the darkness in thin streams offered by a crack in the wood above me, or a waver of my curtains. It had taken some convincing, but at last Airitie had gone home to get the rest she insisted she didn't need. I should have been asleep too, I's thought disjointedly, but I couldn't staring blankly at the wall instead.

Then it happened, the first crushing waves of tears exploding forth, my body wracked with sorrow and pain. I cried and wailed, loud and long not caring who could hear me beyond my walls or what humor I'm sure they found in my situation, because my reaction made little sense. The others, even those chosen for just a night or two had all behaved as though laying with Dusk was the greatest honor one could have bestowed upon them, speaking in lascivious mannerisms about it. It was supposed to be something wonderful and maddeningly erotic. So why was I so remorseful, hurt and scared?

I didn't know the answers and seeking them caused a hot lancing sensation to radiate through my soul. But perhaps, I reasoned, biting down on my pillow in an attempt to gain some semblance of self control, it because he had been so terribly rough, or perhaps because I hadn't wanted it like the others, or because I fought him. A grim clarity coming to mind I knew the answer just like I knew why none of the others had been so injured, disgraced or violated. It was exactly as King Dusk had said, it felt this way because is had been a punishment.

Even now, knowing the cause and determined never to incur such brutality again I felt that I would be glad if no one ever touched me in the ways he did, not for all my life.

I hadn't been aware that I'd slipped the bonds of wakefulness plunging into a void dreamless sleep until I was awoken by a bright piercing light flooding in through the moss curtain that made up my door. The Hollow was filled with life already, frightened voices crying out to one another as the wood could be heard chipping and splintering away with bone jarring cracks emetted from our log.

"Get dressed!" Rot commanded brashly as he rushed inside, blinding me momentarily upon entery. He barreled across the room when I failed to rise, beaten to the bone, and sluggish minded I failed to comprehend what was happening. Rummaging through my drawers Rot hurled clothing over his shoulder and onto the bed.

"What's happening?" I asked blearily, managing to sit. A cold fear shocked through me blazing up my spine when he grabbed the blankets and began yanking them away with urgency. I kicked at him, shouted in disbelief that he was not to touch me.

Suddenly his hands were on my shoulders, shaking me, "We don't have time for this!" he said sharply, expression haggard and spent, jaw badly distended. Shaking I nodded my understanding and allowed myself to be unwound from my covers. He stopped, staring and my bruised and bloody body for the space of a heart beat before turning away. Flooded with embarrassed even as he seethed with rage I ruefully accepted his help dressing.

"We have to leave." he announced, shielding his eyes and peering out of the doorway. Grabbing my hand he pulled me after him, the sun was bright, it's fiery glare of blistering and burning our eyes with its vision damaging rays. It was as we neared the opening at the log's base that an earth shattering crash filled the air and our Hollow was broken into two. A badger, it's black an white striped face sneering through the fissure it had created, obscuring some of the sun's glare had been the culprit. Only faintly, could I make out the Fairy with long braided brown hair who landed dantily on it's back whispering words of encouragement.

"What's going on?" I asked Rot clinging to him and relying on his strength to hold be aloft.

It was then that in all her resplendent, golden luminescence that Queen Clarion descended into our shattered home flanked by armed Sparrow Men on either side, looking fierce and vengeful with the sun behind them and bows drawn. My heart sank as I heard her in a clear concise voice call Dusk forward, hovering neatly in the air, as my people scrambled to find protection from the sun. It does not hurt us exactly, but our eyes are so delicate and keenly attuned to night it made fire in them causing them to burn and water, and a dull roar invade our brains. Day was too bright for our kind.

Rot held onto me in a protective manner as our king, eyes narrowed approached. "You do like to make an entrance!" he said smiling a shark's smile. "What may I do for you, your majesty?" he went on bowing deeply.

The golden Fairy, an embodiment of the spring time sun, her eyes red rimmed and swollen as though from crying looked down on him spitefully. "You know why I have come." she said sharply, clearly she was not in the mood for formalities.

Dusk grinned devilishly, "You've finally accepted my offer of a bedding!" he exclaimed clapping his hands together in jubilation. "Come, come, my chambers are this way, lets get you out of the dress." he said showing no respect or concern for the Fairy queen or her status. The Sparrow Men drew back their bowstrings as if making ready to fire in response to the insult.

"One or more of your Nyxies have assaulted Lord Milori and slain his owl." she declared in a loud angry voice that filled the log. My heart gave a nervous flutter, both fearful of the queen's intent but thrilling at the fact that Queen Clarion spoke of Lord Milori as though he were still alive. Awash with muddied, mixed emotions and eyes ablaze I buried my head into Rot's chest fearful, hopeful, and fanned all at once my heart was a raging torrent.

There was a silence so great it was deafening then, as all waited for our king's reply. Clarion had chosen her position well, the sun behind her, none of us could bare to look at her for more than a few minutes at a time, even Dusk's head was bent from time to time as though with fervor. "And what is it you desire of this Nyxie?" his voice called at last. "As there was only one."

"Punishment," she declared. "Retribution," the Fairy's voice was hard. "A trail to be held in Fairy court." Murmurs and whispering broke like a wave upon shore until it spread and roiled about the log like a living thing.

"I have seen to her punishment personally." Dusk said coolly, and my heart hammered nausea overtaking me. He had said that if there were any questions as to my where abouts he would say I had been abed with him, now he was betraying that trust utterly.

"We demand justice." the Fairy queen said evenly.

It was then that Airitie managed to make her way to us and embraced me tightly. "Everything will be alright." she promised pulling back to stroke my face, though the waver in her voice spoke volumes of her doubt.

"Nightshade." My name fell easily from the king's lips as he beckoned me forth. Trembling, and wing still injured from the night before I was able to, with the help of my friends fly to be presented before the enemy queen. "This is the poison Gifted Nyxie in question." Dusk said with a flourish of his hand and a smirk on his lips. "As you can see I have dealt with her accordingly." he went on motioning to my bruises and abrasions.

Queen Clarion looked me then my companions over, a mixture of emotion washing over visage, intense hate, disgust, and even a small amount of pity as I tried vainly to adjust my hemlock leaf skirt to cover more than it did. The queen was silent as she stared at me. I once more found myself at a loss before the feet of a mighty ruler my life in the balance, and again dared not speak.

"She will return with us for trial." Clarion said, a statement, not a request. Dusk inclined his head in a curt nod of acknowledgment before turning his back to the queen, making for his still dark chambers once more.

"You can't do that!" Airitie shouted as two Sparrow Men came to flank my sides, Rot gripping me tightly and pulling me close.

Clarion gave my friends a hard look, motioning her men onward. "I will send representatives to fetch any who will speak in Nightshade's defense at the time of trial." was all she would say on the matter.

"Wait!" Airitie cried out against the queen for the second time, as from bow point I was pried from Rot's protective embrace.

The red haired Nyxie tore a strip of cloth from the front of her blouse and wrapped it about my eyes to shield them from the sun. "Everything is going to be alright." she said more firmly than before as she hugged me, mindful to do it as carefully as she could. My hands were bound in front of me then, the fingers that tied the restraints flinching when I whimpered pitifully, my discolored wrist throbbing. Then, with a Sparrow Man grabbing each upper arm they took flight hauling me up between them, as we left my fiends, home, and the world I knew behind, shattered and broken like our log, our Hollow.


	6. Chapter 6

I didn't struggle as the Sparrow Men flew away with me in tow. They clung to my upper arms tightly, much more tightly than was necessary causing memories of the night before to flicker undesirably through my mind adding to my trepidation. My heart racing, and head light, tingling with fear and shock I felt weak and helpless in their strong, vice like grips, hands bound, and vision darkened to pitch by Airitie's blindfold. This feeling was expounded upon by my alienation from the cool of night I knew. The sun which I had always imagined to be relatively cool having encountered it only at twilight and dawn was hot and oppressive as it beat down upon me.

I wanted to speak several times, to ask how much farther, what I should expect when we arrived, or even at one point when feeling faint and my wings as if wilted that we might stop for a respite but I dared not. My escorts gave me no warning, and our arrival went unannounced. There was just the sharp and unexpected bite of tree bark scraping against my bare feet. I winced curling my knees towards my chest to protect them from further assault relying on the men's strength to hold me aloft.

I heard the queen murmur to them when I had done so but was unable to pick out her whispered words. The cool of a shadow pass over me then, and I knew we were inside. Tentatively I placed my feet down after the Sparrow Men had come to a halt, feeling the breath of still living wood beneath my toes, age rings expanding out before me.

I was released, though stumbled forward when met with a strong shove to the small of my back. It was awkward trying to catch myself, blindly reaching out with both hands, still bound. After steadying my legs I reached up and removed the cloth from over my eyes. I was in a small, pain, and dimly lit room, with a bed to the right, sink and toilet to the left. I turned seeking explanation when I saw them swinging shut the barred door meant to separate us. This wasn't a room, it was a cell. One of the men motioned for me to step forward, I did so cautiously.

"Give me your hands." he instructed firmly as producing a knife. My bonds were cut relieving some of the pressure and discomfort. After this the Sparrow Men, clad in green took point one on either side of the door, there was no one else to be seen. Standing with a self conscious anxiety as I gingerly rubbed my wrists I reexamined my surroundings.

The bedding looked warm, and soft, and the sink and privy were clean, a towel folded neatly on the sink. There were no windows on this side of the bars, but there was one on the other. I turned when I heard a light, clear female voice behind me. Queen Clarion was standing there her glittering gold dress shining like a star, folded cloth held neatly in her arms.

"Leave us." she instructed her soldiers with a cool, composed air. They looked at her briefly with concern before giving respectful nods and turning sharply to obey.

Now that we were alone the Fairy regarded me for a long moment before speaking. "Nightshade, was it?" she asked a fine brow arching slightly.

"Yes, your majesty." I replied softly with an inclination of my head eyes downcast. She nodded as if I'd confirmed her suspicions.

"These are for you." she explained, tone pinched as she held out the bundles I reached for them which she offered through the bars, her hands recoiling quickly when our fingertips brushed against one another causing the items which turned out to be more conservative, Fairy style, clothing to spill to the floor. Gathering them up again I ruefully wondered if her reaction had been out of fear of my poison, or my heritage, long held, ancestral grudges surfacing in my blood.

I was truthfully grateful for the apparel, the hemlock skirt though it was of my favorites rode high far too revealing for the moment, and state I was in, as I wanted desperately to hide what shame I could. My face fell a bit when I saw the undergarments, realization that I had forgotten to dawn any in my haste I insecurely wondered if she had noticed this during the flight here.

When Queen Clarion showed no sign of intent to turn while I changed I kept my back to her as I unclothed. It was while I gingerly slipping into the underwear that she spoke again. "You weren't a willing consort of your king then?" she questioned in a way I couldn't read, eyeing my cuts a bruises, all of which were heaviest between my legs.

Turning on her with steely eyes I couldn't keep the ice from my voice. "As he said, his majesty saw to my punishment." I bit out trying to keep my breath steady.

The queen nodded her lips pressed together grimly but said nothing more about it, leaving me to finish dressing. The clothes were plain autumn colors, the hem of the brown tunic extending to my knees, a green sash for about my previously exposed midriff and a pair of red breeches. It all fit rather loosely but was very comfortable.

"There are a few matters that have to be resolved before your trial may begin." Clarion said her tone measured as though she were trying hard to control her emotions. "I will be sure to keep you abreast of the situation." She looked me over once more before turning to leave.

"Your highness." I called after her putting my own suffering and upset aside I was still riddled with a consuming guilt, and remorse, I had to know. "Lord Milori, does he-"

"Live?" she snapped without turning to face me. "For now," she said. "But things may change."

A heavy silence stretched between us before I dared speak again. "Queen Clarion, I just wanted to tell you that I'm sorry, and that what happened was an accident." I muttered forlornly.

In a torrent of rage the Fairy queen stalked towards me, taking long vicious strides to stand just inches away, the bars my only protection. "An accident?" she shouted showing a side of herself I doubted any had before seen. "You took his wings, crippled him when you killed that owl!" she bellowed a hand cutting sharply through the air.

I wanted to defend myself, explain how the bird had attacked me without provocation, that I hadn't outright killed it, when in truth the act had been difficult, hurting me deeply after the immediate threat had passed, but I found myself suddenly mute. "And then," she railed on tears standing in her eyes. "You attacked Lord Milori, poisoned him, and left him for dead, alone, and bleeding!"

The love of this woman's life was dying, probably fading fast, and I was the cause. In the sea blue of her eyes a storm raged. Seeing her so flooded with pain and anger, and hate, a realization struck me one that made my world tilt horrifically. They must have been meeting in secret, why else had he left his winter home at the dead of night? How else could he have been found in time? My lamentations for her, and the man I'd likely doomed expounding I truly grieved her but I was just as equally frightened by her too.

"I'm sorry." I managed at last under the weighty scrutiny of her gaze. "I'm so very sorry."

Queen Clarion's eyes narrowed dangerously. Turning to leave she spied the thick curtain covering the room's only window which was on her side of the bars. I was blinded as she tore it down, scurrying away from the light towards the bed hands shielding my face in desperation.

"The trial will be held in Fairy court, I suggest you try to acclimate to diurnal life for the time being." She muttered irately. Squinting I saw her pause near the doorway, hands clenching into fists, a low sigh of resignation leaving her. "I will have a Healing Talent Fairy look in on you." she added her voice softer, almost lilting as she offered me, her enemy, and prisoner, compassion I was no longer certain I deserved.

Falling onto the bed in a fit of tears after she had left, I ignored the silent guards who had resumed their stiff positions. I was utterly overwhelmed by the last day and a half, I hadn't meant to hurt anyone, to kill anyone, I had just been trying to protect myself. Now, it was all just too much to bare, the fear, the regret, the shame, the beautiful, terrible cruelty of Clarion's kindness. The Fairy seemed at war with herself over me. At once she seemed to despise me, yet she pitied me for Dusk's ravagings. And knowing that she was kinder still than my own king after all I had done to her, her people and love, only made it worse. In the end though I thought bitterly it would have been better to just let the owl eat me.


	7. Chapter 7

I sat up and blinked misty eyed and confused as I glanced about. Everything was somehow different, it had all changed. What I noticed first was the light, or rather near complete lack there of. This did little to bother me as I stood, if anything was a welcomed change, where before my cell had been painfully bright, it was this. Nocturnal by nature I could see everything with a crystal's clarity as I surveyed the simple almost completely empty area, save for a large indiscernible shape just before me. Squinting as I tried to make it out my ears buzzed and head became dizzyingly airy as I was struck with the startling familiarity of the room in which I found myself.

The floor was age ringed as had been the one in my cell, but these rings were more than slight dimples in the living wood, they were the large, deep ruts and divits of a long dead tree. Their was a slight musk to the cool night air that seemed to seep into me and steal away in my hair with a damp mossy tang. Most frightening however, was when I'd dared approach the object in the center of the room, and finally saw it for what it was, a bed. Not the simple, safe, cozy bed of the cell in Pixie Hollow, or even my thin lichen mattress at home, this was the over-large and extravagantly made bed of my king, Dusk of the Nyxies.

I felt sick. Had everything that had happened before been a dream or flight of fancy? Was my arrest and the cell which I believed to have fallen asleep in nothing more than a construct of my own mind in an attempt to protect itself from the hellish reality faced here in this place, or something more, a premonition perhaps?

These thoughts occupied my consciousness only briefly, for they were of little true concern in that moment. My heart battling hard against the ribs which caged it I turned to flee the wicked place, but he was there. I screamed, a dying sound that fell away into oblivion the second it left my body, useless, and heard by no one. Grabbing onto me Dusk pulled me close his lips tasting my own ravenously. I lurched away my stomach in sharp knots, but he held me fast by my upper arms. Even as I fought it and thrashed about, it didn't make much sense to a near dormant part of my mind, wasn't this considered an honor?

Regardless, I struggled, seized by a primal and animalistic fear I hadn't realize I was capable of possessing, I didn't want this, and didn't want him, not any of it, and thrashed about wildly. He backed me into a wall releasing one of my arms when he had. His free hand roamed as it would, sending shivers of displeasure and nausea throughout me in wretched waves.

Pressing tight against me he tore off my blouse nibbling and biting the flesh he'd found beneath. Screaming I slapped my king, who laughed mockingly at my futile attempts, tears streaming down my face. I cried out when he threw me to the ground, intense pain jolting through my left forearm when I tried to break my fall. I was on my hand and knees crawling, with the injured limb pressed tight to my chest. His weight came down on me, breath hot and rank in my ear as his whispered lascivious threats to my body as one arm wrapped about my waist.

There was a sharp pinch inside me, my body throwing itself forward as Dusk laughed flexing the digits he used in painful, agonizing ways. Kicking like a wild beast I managed to connect with something soft scurrying away as quickly as possible when I'd been let go of. Coming to stand over me his expression almost bored the devil reeled back his foot before crashing it with a mighty blow into my stomach, sending brightly colored orbs to dance and waver before my eyes. Again, and again he did this until I collapsed onto one side gasping desperately for air.

He was brutal in the way he handled me then, fueled by a rage I had never seen in any living thing, not even in he himself when he struck me at mention of what I had done to Lord Milori, though a bright flicker of amusement could be seen also as I begged for mercy and forgiveness amid the beating I received.

It seemed almost an act of divine sadism when Dusk tossed me onto the bed, bending my wing, that the matress and blankets should be so soft when his grip was so tight, and nails so sharp between my legs. I kicked and wailed, hit and screamed as he held me down kissing, caressing, tasting tying my hands high above my head that I might not flood him with poison. My efforts only seemed to amuse him more as he laughed at my tears taking a dark self-indulgent pleasure in my pain. He was of course much larger and much stronger than I could ever hope be, overpowering me with ease his weight crushing and breath hot and putrid upon my breast.

"Please, don't." I managed to wheeze then, fear for my life emerging when his hands closed firmly about my throat, a dim haze coming to play at the edge of my vision. Just as I was ready to surrender myself to the dark, blissfully accepting death and the escape it offered so willingly, he let go, shallow breath hissing into my form which had never before seemed for frail or broken. He pulled my legs and lower body nearer to him, the rope pulling taught as it dug into my wrists. With a wicked glint to his eyes, he loomed over me victoriously savoring my whimpering cries for help and compassion, then my body was divided, torn by a savage and fiery pain I felt would end me.

I sat up screaming, prying at the hand that was on my forearm though it was small and gentle, unlike that of my king. Heart racing and tears overwhelming my eyes as I scrambled backwards until my wings felt crushed against the wall. I looked with fear and distrust at the Fairies in my cell. One was a Sparrow Man with olive skin and dark eyes, he stood at the ready beside the barred door, holding it cautiously open, while the female, undoubtedly the Healing Fairy Queen Clarion had promised to send, looked at me with wide sorrowful brown eyes from beside my bed, where she had been attempting to wake me.

I choked, sputtering for air as I timidly waited for them to do whatever they would to me, but neither one made moved an inch, just as petrified and uncertain as I was. Focusing on my breathing, and trying to slow it I took note of the setting sun just outside the window. Thought of tending my plants flickered with a brief absurdity before reality came flooding back.

Feeling a bit more myself after a time I wondered, as I looked at the pair how much I had cried out or given away in the grips of the harrowing nightmare, the memory. The fragile look the Healer gave me, and the way the Sparrow Man could not meet my gaze, his wings fluttering with discomfort confirmed it. I had exposed my pain and shame before them in full.

I felt dirty, and sick, pulling my knees to my chest, I cried. The Healing Talent Fairy moved to sit on the edge of my bed, scooting close to me she took the time needed to wrap an arm about my quaking shoulders without causing too much alarm.

"Everything's going to be alright." she cooed softly rubbing a hand slowly between my wings. "Oliver," she called turning away from me after a moment. "I think I'll be fine here on my own, why don't you wait outside?" she asked, her voice was naturally light but her tone firm, commanding almost.

The Sparrow Man looked at her curiously for a minute before glancing back at me, expression grim. He nodded sharply, making his way first out of my cell locking it behind him, and then out of the adjacent room.

"I'll be right outside if you need me Elixa." he said through the final inch of the large red door before easing it fully closed.

Silence ate up the room as neither one of us spoke, quiet tears sliding down my cheeks, the Fairy allowing me time to grieve my suffering.

After what felt like years Elixa cleared her throat. "I'm sorry," she started, "But I'm going to need you to undress."

"No." came my unexpected and broken sob as I hugged myself.

"Please," she added when I hesitated. "I'm only here to help you."

Elixa looked me over, her gaze scrutinizing as if it could pierce through my clothing and access the injuries beneath. After some gentle prodding she had helped me at last undress, her gasps, and the disapproving way she clucked her tongue only added to my embarrassment and discomfort, but she seemed keen on removing everything. Rifling through the basket of items she had brought with her I could hear the occasional mutter she gave about my king and his cruelty. Pausing to pull out some spider silk dressings Elixa gave me a weak smile her ramblings dying off as she shook her head solemnly, replaced instead with apologies.

"Your wing just needs a bit of bracing for a few days," she said indicating that I should turn around. I obeyed allowing her to wind the delicate appendage in the sticky cloth. From there she washed my gently, applying ointment to by cuts and scratches, tending carefully to the swollen, taught skin of my face that had turned purple and leak a putrid substance, the skin beginning to die away from the venom. She sighed looking at it. "This'll take some weeks to be set right," she mused. "And even then it will scar badly." she informed me.

I nodded, muttering "If I live long enough." dryly to myself.

Elixa turned my face gently so that I had to look at her. "Queen Clarion is a kind and just ruler," she paused pressing her lips together. "When the time for your trial arrives you will be allowed to present your case, and I promise you, she and the court will judge with their heads, not their hearts." I tried to smile for her, so that she knew her words were working, part of me wanting to reward Elixa for her empathy, though I was still flooded with trepidation.

After that the Healing Fairy braced my arm which was fractured, and tenderly brushed the long lock which had come undone from it's braid, out of my eyes. "I'm sorry," she said in a soft tone, easing me to lie back on the bed. Tears sprung into my eyes as I realized what was happening and fought to sit up. "You may need sutures." Elixa explained deceptively strong as eased my head to the pillow.

I gripping the sheet that was spread beneath me, rigid with dark anticipation. Moving towards the end of the bed, Elixa laid out a warm wash rag, ointments, balms, a needle and thread. I turned my face tearily to the wall as she approached the foot of the bed. I flinched at her touch muscles contracting madly throughout by body as I curled defensively. "Shh," she murmured, repositioning me. "It's going to be alright."

Shutting my eyes I willed myself with desperation to believe her, but I couldn't. Turning my face to the wall as she opened my legs to inspect the damage I tried to cry as quietly as possible. "Just," she started, and I could tell she was trying hard to help. "Think of something happy."

"Ok." I whispered squeezing closed my eyes. I tried thinking about my yew tree, tall and magnificent, strong with well grounded roots, ...and a large weeping gash. Suddenly I found myself thinking of Lord Milori, filling me with an immense guilt and responsibility for everything that had transpired since, my mind lingering on Clarion's emotional turmoil, and my vile and traumatic punishment. "It's not working." I said, fighting the urge to roll away while Elixa cleaned the bloody and inflamed area. Every thought I had kept, somehow, leading me back here, and to what she was doing.

"Keep trying." she advised gently giving my knee a pat. I thought about my friends, but that only made things harder, they were more than my friends, or even family, they were where I had made my home, in them, their hearts. Their love and kindness was where I lived more than the little nook in the Hollow where I kept my belongings and they had been forced to listen and witness so much before I'd been ripped away from them.

"Hold still!" Elixa snapped as I wretched away, the ointment stung where she applied it, to the torn and ruined flesh. Soon enough though, the area was numb. Noticing her hand reaching for something I glanced down worriedly, regretting it when I saw her pick up the needle.

With nothing was working, to remove me from the present not any thoughts or memories, I devised a new tactic. "Can I ask you something?" I questioned, meekly.

"Anything." Elixa intoned soft determination to her voice.

"Lord Milori," I began, staring blindly at the wall. "How, how is he today?"

Elixa paused momentarily to look up at my face. "As well as can be expected." she said giving me a non-committal reply.

"But will he be alright, will he live?" I asked.

The Pixie sighed. "I was asked not to discuss these things with you." she said with an almost regretful tone. I turned to look down at her, she spared me only a glance, intent on finishing her work quickly crestfallen and distraught I turned back to my wall.

"All done." Elixa smiled patting the side of my leg after a while, as she stood and began tidying her supplies. I closed my legs gingerly and sat up, watching as she laid out a fresh pair of clothing, similar in style as the first though in brown and green, before she gathered my dirty pair.

"Thank you." I said after dressing.

Elixa shook her head. "Don't thank me." she said giving a sad smile. "It's my duty, I will send a wash basin." she added while I helped her gather the rest of her things. I smiled, very grateful for the chance to cleanse myself of all that had happened to me. Elixa called out for the Sparrow Man who entered cautiously as though afraid he would catch me in a compromising position. "I'll be back to check on you regularly." she assured while leaving.

I sat heavily on the edge of my bed, my soul weighing me down. I was filled with guilt and shame, and sorrow, but also anger, not just at my own king, but the Fairy Queen. Why hadn't I been able to receive information on Lord Milori's health? It was cruel not to allow me a Healing Talent's assurance while I awaited trial.

My brooding was interrupted when someone cleared their throat. Lifting my gaze I saw the Sparrow Man holding something towards me from the other side of the bars. I approached cautiously and saw the it was a small length of vine. I narrowed my eyes at him warily. "For your hair." he said shortly.

"Oh, thank you." I muttered taking it.

"Nyxie." he said, giving me a curt nod before turning back around, sharp, tall, and rigid with duty.

"Sparrow Man." I replied in the same brief fashion as I began to gather the untidy lock into a braid.

He stood erect for several seconds before shoulders drooped slightly as some of the formality ebbed away from him. "Oliver." he said gently.

"Nightshade." I replied settling back down on my bed. After a minute or so, I dared speak again. "I um, like that name, Oliver, it sounds exotic." I said. Nyxie names usually reflected what their Gift was in some way, but not always, so I had never actually heard the like before. I waited but he said nothing. "Thank you again," I tried, wringing my hands together anxiety beginning to flutter anew in my chest as I began to feel trapped in the cramped but comfortable cell. Tense and restless I felt at a loss for hope as it appeared I didn't even have the luxury of conversation. "For the vine..." My words were met with silence.

Cursing myself as thought tears were about to make a reappearance in my life I opened my mouth to speak again when he cut in. "We aren't allowed to talk to you." he informed me without so much as turning his head in my direction. I nodded pulling my pillow to me and hugging it. I didn't want to cry even as the need overcame me, but my eyes were too swollen and sore to manage the task.

"Nightshade," Oliver said after a while, startling me a bit. "You're welcome."


	8. Chapter 8

Sleep was difficult to come by. At most I managed a few short naps throughout the night, but even then those weren't restful. In truth I was terrified of slipping back into a dream world harried with memories darker than any nightmare. I tried talking to Oliver again periodically, but it was clear that he intended to follow protocol after his momentary lapse in judgment. Invaded by cynicism, I couldn't help but wonder if it was due to the nature of my injuries that the lapse had even occurred in the first place. When this failed and sleeping seemed impossible as it was in the middle of my waking hours I paced the cell until my weary and corrupted body could walk no longer.

My entire form had a dull ache that settled deep into each and every muscle, my face burning where the tissue wasn't already dead. From the wall opposite my bed however, I found that I could see the night sky through the window, and that gave me some peace. The heavens were a mesmerizing deep violet-blue with a glittering ribbon of stars running and twisting across its face.

It was almost with that sense of romanticism that I sank to the floor, wincing at a twinge of pain, the balm Elixa had used to numb the sutures beginning to wear off. Ignoring it, I closed my eyes and imagined the night. It would cool and crisp, or at least I would want it to be. A stiff breeze would be racing through the trees, the kind that makes them sing mournful songs and tussles your hair adding just the right amount of resistance to your wings to make you feel alive with effort. It would be a night where I could work uninterrupted surrounded by my beautiful, and deadly growing things, long into the morning hours.

If I rested quietly I found that I could picture it well enough, smile at it even, at the imagined wind on my face. It was almost euphoric, a haven unto myself, but then, as if preordained by the cosmos, something would remind me of the truth, a pain, a scent, the warm stillness of the air in the hollow tree's nook. Inactivity was the enemy, it always had been, but my mind was reeling, buzzing with life, my stillness began to fill me with an inadequacy my current position had yet to touch.

I tried to hold onto the images for as long as I could if for no other reason than it felt good, and familiar and safe. Almost like my world, my life that I had been forced to leave behind was still out there somewhere, and that maybe I could find it again, someday. Though there in lay the trouble. If I was ever to find my way back to my old life if ever I could, I would first have to find a way out of this Hell I had unwittingly created for myself of King's lurid favors, Queen's manic rages, and Lord's fagile mortalities.

The illusion broke, shattering all around me in million shimmering pieces illuminated only by the hope that died with it.

I couldn't cry anymore, but I wished that I could, or that at least I had the nerve to scream, anything to release this flood of emotion that had been dammed up in my heart and soul, but I just couldn't.

Oliver left an hour before dawn without any pageantry or so much as a word. The Sparrowman who relieved him wore autumn colors, had fierce green eyes and deep yellow-orange hair. He showed his disdain for me almost immediately, in the form of a sharp flat footed kick to the bars I had begun to doze against. The blow shook the reed that had been run up in place between us and reverberated painfully throughout my skull and electrifying me with short lived, disoriented panic.

Picking myself up from the floor I moved begrudgingly to the bed where I sank down and threw the blankets over my face to help drown out the steadily growing light that filtered in from outside. The guard distrustfully refusing to turn his back to me as his position would dictate, he instead stared at me, the feel of his eyes on me following me into sleep.

I awoke some time later to the sound of arguing. The luminescence of day harsh and bright, assaulting my vision immediately and making it difficult to discern what was happening around me, I sat up. Blinking furiously at the flow of tears my watering eyes had unleashed in an attempt to protect themselves from the burn I was just able to make out Elixa. She was backed by two other figures and was shouting angrily and my new, violent tempered guard.

"You will leave immediately or Queen Clarion will hear about this!" she was saying hotly. The other figures seemed content to stand quietly by, their arms heavily burdened and faces expressive, clearly disliking the idea of intervening.

"Excuse me." I called cautiously, edging my way to the end of the bed. The group turned to look at me with varying degrees of interest.

There was a moment of hush before Elixa turned away as though she needn't bother with me at the moment and turned instead to glare at the brute imposing his will upon her. "Leave, Asher, now." she said firmly.

There was a tense moment before the Fairy guard seemed to relent, but he didn't lose any of his fire, or hate. Turning the guard spat in my direction, staring at me with hard eyes for a long held breath of silence, my stomach contracting with fear at the familiarity in the look. After this he left without further word or argument, dropping the keys to my cell unceremoniously upon the floor.

"I'm sorry about that." the Healing Talent murmured as if embarrassed by his moody display.

Elixa nimbly unlocked and opened the door motioning for her fellows to enter while she tacked up the curtains once more. Blinking rapidly as a blessed shadow fell over the room, dimming it to an almost pleasant extent I relished the change.

"Thank you." I found myself saying as I wiped at my face free of the watery tears found there. I hadn't realized how much I could appreciate this type of simple kindness so much until that very moment. Elixa nodded entering my holding area, and speaking shortly with her companions.

"This is Marigold, and Poppy," she explained offering quick introductions to the yellow and red haired Fairy women who smiled and nodded briefly. After this the two went about filling the basin they had carried between them, scenting the warm water drawn from the sink with lavender oil as they did.

While the pair worked the Healing Talent rummaged through her medical equipment, producing fresh bandages, and several of the poultices and balms she had used earlier, lining them in a neat row across the solitary shelf afforded to me. Humming something absent mindedly, she and the others moved with purpose and ease. I felt awkward, out of place, and strangely vulnerable as I sat hands in lap, watching. I wanted to ask what exactly, the argument had been about, and if I'd somehow gotten the gentle Elixa into trouble. Reflecting upon the guard, Asher's rages, I both worried for and admired the nurse for standing up to him.

It was then that I noticed the barred door stood open, as if beckoning me towards it with promises of freedom. I found myself staring, wondering how quickly I could get through it, and then the door opposite, thinking about how many guards were waiting for me to try, and how sharp a Sparrowman's aim was. The desire still burning immensely I didn't take flight. No matter how sorely I wanted my freedom I knew it could not be obtained in such a way, that I would be hunted and brought swiftly back, if not slain. Then my mind wandered to Lord Milori and felt like I housed a block of ice in my stomach. If I left now I would never know the truth, and would be forced always to carry this cold weight of dread and guilt with me. In that sense, not matter what I did, or how far I flew I would never be free.

"There," Elixa said breaking my line of thought as she turned beaming brightly when apparently everything was finished. Her gaze confident and satisfied as she looked at me, almost as if she had left the door open intentionally, having caught my longing gaze. "We're all done. Now, you get yourself clean and taken care of. I'll be right outside to tend to you when you're done, take your time." she instructed.

"Thank you," I smiled, apprehensive at first.

When they'd gone, I approached the tub which was just large enough to submerge my lower half, a pitcher, sponge, and bar of soap standing beside it, and was overcome with relief. Slipping out of my clothes I glanced nervously at the red door which led to the outside world before stepping into the warm water, heat racing up my limbs upon contact.

Sinking into the tub I felt my muscles begin to relax, the stress and tension ebbing away at once. When the heat came to my stitches however, I flinched, holding myself to hover just above the waterline. I hadn't been prepared for it, the stinging, but determined to wash the rank, musty smell of Dusk from my body I took a breath and thrust myself beneath the confined waves. Biting my lip and whimpering I closed my eyes and waited for the intense burning sensation to subside, and at last, it did.

Breathing easier, and relishing the calming aromas I began pouring the cleansing liquid over my head until I was wet enough to form a lather. I washed carefully, encumbered by the use of one arm completely diminished making do the best I could, until I had soaped and rinsed my form completely. Reluctant to get out, I toweled off, sat upon my bed calling tentatively for the Healing Fairy.

Elixa appeared, closing the door swiftly behind her, though not before I'd caught sight of a threatening male form in beetle carapace armor. Smiling as she approached Elixa seemed to sense my discomfort and alarm. "Asher will stay outside until I'm done, you have my word."

Moving inside she made quick work of re-bandaging my wing and applying balm to my many cuts, her brown eyes fell decisively upon my face, and she sighed. "There's an ulcer forming already." she murmured to herself before looking me in the eye. "I don't," she started as if finding the correct phrasing was difficult. "I don't suppose you know the type of venom?" she asked.

"No," I confessed shamefully. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be." she put simply, using a thin, dull blade to free the dead, rotting skin from the healthy tissue, making my eyes flutter somewhat anxiously.

"I'm going to leave this here for you." she explained pausing her work to hold up a little pink jar of clay-like paste. "I need you to apply if six times a day." she added once she'd finished exposing my healthy skin. Unscrewing the lid and smoothing it the cooling ointment over my wound Elixa seemed to be lost deep in thought.

"Is everything alright?" I asked with some uncertainty.

"Yes dear." she replied. Standing to shelf the jar Elixa wiped her hands on her apron motioning for me to dress. "I dare say that's all for now." she said as I laced up the neckline securely. "You won't likely see me again until the I come to remove the stitches."

My face fell, eyes wide as I gawked at her. "What?" my voice tremored.

Nodding the Fairy sat beside me on the bed. "I'm sorry," she intoned earnestly. "But I'm only here to tend to your injuries, and nothing more."

There was a vice in my chest, squeezing at the hard working valve that was my heart. "But- but-" I stammered, wanted to ask 'But who can I trust with you gone?' though something held me back. "But I don't want to be alone!" I practically shrieked.

"I know," the Healer said solemnly, taking my hand in hers and sighing. "You won't be, though, I promise, and in the meantime, if you need me, you can send for me."

I regarded her with pain for a long minute. I'd thought she was my friend, someone I could trust, and depend on, believing that perhaps, she was the only person here who might believe me. Treasonous notions that if it hadn't been for the queen's command I would have never even met Elixa a bitterness rose within me, one I knew was unfounded and little deserved by the kind soul to my left.

"Don't be sad." she whispered, fixing my braid to hang behind one ear. She seemed to want to say something more, but got up instead. "Goodbye for now Nightshade," Elixa said from the door, Marigold and Poppy reemerging to gather what they'd brought with them, a cross Asher escorting them in. And like that, she flew off, leaving me devastatingly alone.


End file.
